21 Guns
by Can'tLiveInAFairyTaleRomance
Summary: Belle French, 18 years old, tries to commit suicide-Unfortunately for Belle, She surivives-Most of the doctors say that this 'self harm thing' is a phase-But there in more underneath-Cue Dr.Robert Gold. In his 28 years as a psychiatrist, he had never been tempted by a Patient...That was until he meet Belle French. AU-Real Life, No magic etc.


**AN: I do not own any of the characters in Once upon a time, not even Belle or Rumple, wish I did-but what can I do.**

**TRIGGER WARNING: Self Harm/Attempted Suicide is present in this chapter.**

**Also note: I have posted this story before-Only 2 chapters. But I wanted to redo it so….BEGIN!**

Ambulance Sirens were all she could hear, her already aching head screamed with it. Her muscles felt stiff as If she hadn't gotten up in a long time. A screech of tyres stopped the sirens then all she could hear were yells and groans-her own? –and the sound of a babies cry.

''Mrs? Mrs-?'' An accented voice said. Even in her barely lucid state, she still wanted to be a smart ass and make a crude response to the man. But her mouth and brain didn't seem to be successfully communicating with one another and the only sound that came out was that of a dying animal.

There was a tapping on her face as if someone was gently slapping her, _'Well,'_ Belle thought _'You know what they say: There's a first time for everything.'_

Belle couldn't recall a time when a hand hadn't been a cause of fear. Even the movement of someone's hand in normal conversation was enough to have her flinching.

She attempted to open her eyes but her eyelids felt heavy as if being weighed down. She managed to squeeze her eye lips slightly, and felt a trickle of liquid slide from her forehead and run down the left side of her nose.

"She's unconscious. Archie, Help me get her out of her seat-from what I can tell she has no major injuries to her person, perhaps internal bleeding'' She was lifted from her car seat, she felt the glass from her window's fall from her body, some of it scraping her skin, and she felt the sharp prick of pain-nothing she wasn't used to,of course-she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that the glass hadn't cut a major artery.

"She may have a concussion from the nasty head wound, Graham-Once we get in the ambulance haul ass and get her to the hospital…'' The man paused, his voice heavy with regret. ''There were only two survivors from the other car…They are taking the young lady and baby to the hospital as we speak. Augustus is taking them." This was said by Archie, Belle presumed. His voice was soothing and calm and he wasn't in a rush with his words though each he said made her fill with dread.

All Belle could remember was crashing-she hadn't realised she had crashed into another vehicle-It hadn't been on purpose. She hadn't meant to do it. Yet no guilt crushed her, Well not that much… She was practically numb, perhaps it was because of the morphine or some sort of pain relief they were injecting into her arm.

Sounds softly faded out, Now all she could hear was the sound of blood rushing through her ears. It reminded her of a simpler time, when the sound that was rushing through her ears was that of the ocean heard through a shell. It was laughable to Belle that she could compare a picture of innocence-7 year old her with a shell pressed to her ear, believing that though she was miles away from a beach, that she could hear it clearly with a shell she had brought home with her, to the reality of this situation.

The black waters of the ocean she so fondly remember as a child now crept up on her and pulled her into their dark embrace.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx **

''Miss, the alcohol levels in your system were over the limit-not to mention the sleeping pills that the doctors had to pump from your stomach-and your telling me this wasn't an attempted suicide?''

"It wasn't a fucking suicide attempt!" Belle yelled finally losing her temper with the cop who had been interviewing her-or rather interrogating her-because of the fatalities in the crash. Belle had killed 1 out of three people. Emma, a week old baby survived the crash as well as her mother who was in a coma, the police man had so _nicely _told her. Not only that but he also felt it necessary to tell her the names of the persons she had put into a coma and killed. Mary Margret Blanchard, Mother of Emma was in a coma and Ruth Nolan, The grandmother of the child, had died on impact. She knew one of her victims from school, Mary Margret, nicknamed Snow due to the obvious reasons of having 'Skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood', was _THE Little_ _miss perfect_ of Storybrooke High School. Well, she was up until the beginning of senior year when rumours started circulating that she was pregnant with David 'Charming' Nolan's child. She was, in fact, carrying his child and Little Emma was the creation of Mr and Mrs Perfect.

Belle was too numb for all of this information; she had been awake for barely ten minutes when _Super Cop_ walked in. Even her anger with the Super Cop hadn't really gotten her angry-and if she was being completely honest with herself she hadn't felt anything since her older brother died. No-That was a lie, she felt the grief of losing her brother, best friend-no, she went numb in the months after, when her father begun acting like a different person and the numbness had only increased when her mother killed herself only a week ago.

"No need to yell miss, I'm just doing my job, Now-" Super Cop never got to finish.

"I don't care if you're doing your fucking job just get the fuck out of my room!" Her Australian accent was even more pronounced than usual due to the aggression behind it. Her tone was set in steel and completely unmoving.

Super Cop ignored her, "Your father called the police as soon as he found your suicide note, miss." He ended on a sigh looking down at the floor beside her bed and ran his fingers through cropped brown hair.

Belle stopped cold. "He forged it-I didn't write shit. I had far too many sleeping pills and just a bit of Brandy-I'm having trouble sleeping, ya know'' The lies slid easily from her lips and She said it all matter-of-factly. ''For my…misdemeanour, how many years in prison would I get?''

She had in fact penned a suicide note which simply said:

_"Fuck You, Moe._

_See you in hell-Because we both know you'll be there to see me. _

_Belle."_

Belle didn't really think it looked like a suicide note-apparently her father did. She would have loved to write a long one like Kurt Cobain's and sign off with 'Peace, love, empathy' just as he had done. But even in her mind that sounded morose.

Super Cop ignored her yet again "Miss, you're being sent to a psychiatric facility. Just to get some rest and a diagnosis, your new therapist will be here soon." Then he finally looked away from the hospital floor and hard amber eyes met hers. "Miss French…Please do not deny the service in which we are giving you. The Doctors told me that there is evidence on your person to suggest that you have been…Self harming….Adding that with the amount of sleeping pills and alcohol in your system as well as your suicide note, it is very clear to all that this was a suicide attempt.'' Belle began to speak again but Super Cop held out a hand to stop her. " As I said, Miss French, Your therapist will be her momentarily." He then turned and left the room.

"Oi! I'm not fucking going anywhere, you moustached bastard! GET BACK IN HERE!" Belle's only response was the slam of the door. "Motherfucker…" Belle muttered.

Her Eyes scanned the room. It was dark, the blinds drawn via her request. The room looked like a hospital room should. Sterile and un-extraordinary.

Her eyes locked on a plastic knife in the tray that had carried her food. Her face nearly split in a Cheshire cat smile. You'd think the nurses would think this through-A woman is put in hospital over car accident-turns out she left a suicide note-WHAT DO WE GIVE HER!? A plastic knife-SURELY she won't harm herself with that! Ha-ha, Wrong.

Belle brought the plastic knife to her right wrist and proceeded to push the knife into her wrist-she pushed so hard she did break skin, and then she began to saw. Yes, literally saw at her wrist till blood was drenching her hospital gown. She could swear she felt every piece of flesh break, heard the noise of it ripping beneath her plastic knife-which was beginning to crack beneath the pressure she was applying to it.

Then without warning or as much as a knock, a man opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. When he had first opened the door he looked friendly and welcoming- but the moment his eyes had laid on her and her blood soaked wrist and clothing, he had gone pale-the colour rushing from his face. He released a guttural sounding profanity in another language-Gaelic? - As he rushed to her side grabbing her wrist and applying pressure to it. She attempted to push him away with her left hand which still held the broken plastic knife, now cutting into the flesh of her palm but soon Belle didn't have the will to fight back anymore.

He began to speak, his voice was deeply accented, Scottish. "Hush now, hush now, we'll get you all fixed up now, beauty" He crooned, his soulful brown eyes meeting her cobalt blue ones. It felt like an eternity that they stared at each other, though it was mere seconds-both studying the other. Belle was looking for a weakness in him and she couldn't find any-He was solid and strong, his long hair tucked behind his ears, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips-and suddenly Belle began to feel-they only way she could describe it was Butterflies were having a panic attack in her stomach. Those Brown eyes, with flicks of gold seemed to absorb her, and she felt as if she was falling into them. 'But then again,' Belle thought,' that could be from blood loss.'

He broke the staring compaction, shaking his head as if he was trying to shake away thoughts-He refocused his gaze on her wrist. Belle stared at him still, He wasn't young, he was likely in his late 40's to early 50's, He wasn't what some would call classically handsome either but he had magnetism to him. She studied his face, the crease between his brows, concern etched around his eyes which seemed to be completely focused on her blood covered wrist which Belle was now staring at too...She began laughing at the sight of his hands soaked in her blood. The doctors and nurses rushed into the room. She giggled manically as if she had just come up with the most dastardly plan. Belle looked back at the man who had 'saved' her. He was staring at her with those eyes which vaguely reminded her of puppy eyes except they were filled with fear. For him or her, she had no idea. She released the plastic knife in her left hand and brought her hand to his face. She wanted to comfort him, somehow. He looked morbidly funny with her bloodied hand on his face.

She was falling into his Golden eyes again, not noticing the doctors and nurses swarming around them. Her voice came out a breathless giggly mess.

'Don't worry, Goldie...It's just a scratch…'' She then promptly passed out.


End file.
